Before You Bleed
by Gitana
Summary: Sam is working a case when he finds Jo dying on the floor of the house he’s investigating. Dean races to get there before it’s too late.


**Before You Bleed**

**By:** Gitana  
**Rating/Timeline/Characters: **PG13 / Mid S4 (No Spoilers) / Jo, Dean, Sam & Ellen  
**Disclaimer:** None of it is mine, of course. Belongs to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers.  
**Summary:** Sam is working a case when he finds Jo dying on the floor of the house he's investigating. Dean races to get there before it's too late.

* * *

Sam presses a bloody, useless rag to the left side of her ripped body. The wound stretches over like red thunder, the blood filters through cheap fabric, silently joining a small puddle of dirty water beneath the beat up rib cage, more blood than water now.

"Please, call my mom," Jo pleads.

Sam's enraged, fighting back insults (_Are you crazy? How could you have been so stupid? What were you thinking?_). He's shaky. How could she do this? Why couldn't she leave it alone?

"I know what you're thinking," she said through labored breathing, "I was stupid, I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's sorry, if I would've gotten here earlier… Look at you…"

Sam scoops her head up from the floor and into his lap. She's dirty and beat up, he can't stop shaking.

Sam frantically dials Ellen's number; finally ringing leads to somebody on the other side. He holds the phone to Jo's ear. _Hello? Jo_? Ellen repeats desperately. Jo starts crying bitterly, weakened, pale, she sobs. _Oh Mom_…

"Mom… Mom…" Can't say anything else. Nothing else comes out. _Mom_.

"Oh baby…" Ellen knows, she just knows. She has been there for other people's tragedies, some of her own; but Jo's whimpers hit her like a hammer to the neck. "Oh Jo… Oh, baby, I told you! This was no life for you, baby."

…

The Impala races: Dean is frantic, panicked; doesn't know how he's driving when his eyes can't focus on anything and his knees might as well be made of sand. Everything looks like paint but he drives through the haze. He doesn't feel anything but the pounding of his heart against bone and flesh and hope. Sam wouldn't have called like that if it wasn't serious, he can't lie to himself: this is bad.

The Winchesters had not heard of Jo Harvelle in years. She could have been back in college, married to a nice guy, pregnant with twins… For all they knew, Jo could have been living another life, under a different name, somewhere far away from the darkness. But fate would have it that they would find her again covered in dust, soaked in blood. Dean and Sam were checking out a case. They had split up, a less rare occurrence than it had once been. Sam found the case was already solved on his first try of the day with Jo on her back, barely alive to thank for it. One perfect diagonal line across the rib cage, shirt torn to shreds, somehow clinging to the parts of her that weren't broken and bleeding. Too many blows to the head, it was the blood loss that got her. She couldn't crawl far enough. She fainted in the process. Sam found her and woke her up to the fading away of the world.

"Poltergeist," she had explained. "I got it."

…

Sam gets enough courage to grip her and carry her over to the bedroom in front of them. He lays her down gently. She welcomes the softness and closes her eyes for a second.

"Don't! Jo?" Sam is sweating.

She pats his hand, still pressing on the wound with a fresh towel he found on the floor.

"Let me rest for a bit."

"You can't rest, Jo, you have to stay awake, _look at me."_

"I'm exhausted."

The ambulance arrives.

"Up here! We're in here!" Sam yells as loud as he can.

Two paramedics run up the stairs with proper equipment. The older one wears a blank expression like he's seen it all. Maybe he has.

One of the paramedics places his ear to Jo's chest, the other loads an injection of morphine to be released into Jo's bloodstream. The younger paramedic shakes his head lightly.

Jo is having a seizure. Some of her organs are shutting down. Sam watches in horror, wishing he could will her back to life.

Outside the house, Sam sees the Impala racing into his direction as if the car itself knows it's urgent. Jo is already inside the ambulance. Dean can't see her as they drive away, she might not be alive when he gets to the hospital.

Dean knows he's in no condition, but he doesn't let Sam drive, no time to waste. Sam takes his place on the Impala's passenger seat, leaving behind a rental under a fake name that won't trace back to the real him. He has more important things to worry about than customer responsibility.

"It's bad," Sam whispers. Dean's foot wails on the gas.

…

"She needs surgery."

"She's our sister," Sam lies. "Our mother is flying over here right now."

"Is she married?"

"No." Sam didn't even think about that before, but she had no ring.

"Can we consent? We're family." Dean adds.

…

"You may see her, but it has to be quick. I have to warn you, we can't guarantee anything right now."

Dean opens his eyes as he enters the room. She doesn't even look like Jo. Not the Jo he remembers, but it's been so long. Maybe this is what she looks like now. Or maybe she's a stranger taking Jo away from her mother and her friends, a pale imitation of what used to be awake. An older, broken version of a girl he left behind.

Jo has a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Her veins are open as fluid makes its way every second, her eyes are closed, unconscious. Bruises purple on Jo's face beneath swollen eyes, the smaller bruises almost look like flowers, violent blue petals on her cheeks. Sam stays behind to close to the door. He's been there. He has watched Dean die away on a hospital bed, sleeping through tearful goodbyes.

"Crazy kid." Dean whispers, he wants to hold her hand, but he fears his touch can break her. He slides his palm under her still hand. He leaves it there feeling the shy press of weightlessness on his fingers. "Jo?" _Are you dying? Is it my fault?_

…

Ellen watches longingly and weepy from the chair in the corner. Jo went into a coma yesterday, she's in the ICU now, but Ellen still watches the empty bed, standing guard between her daughter and death.

Dean and Sam are downstairs. Sam has told Dean the story a thousand times: when did he get there, how he found her, every word she said. Was she awake? No. Did she cry? Yes. Was she brave? Always. Was she alone? Yes. Did she ask for me? She did.

"Why didn't she call us?"

"We left her. She probably got tired of reaching out."

"What if she dies, Sam? What if she never wakes up?" Dean bites his lower lip in frustration.

"Then I'll never forgive myself for stopping for coffee."

…

It's been four days. Jo woke up, said Ellen's name a few times and two minutes later she slipped back into a coma.

"She's a fighter…" the doctor remarks.

….

It's been nine days. For Ellen, Dean and Sam, the hospital has gained an air of familiarity and dread, the place that holds all the answers and no answer at all. She may live, or she may not. They wait.

She's awake again, but she's so far away. The last thing Jo remembers is the soft bed, that moment of urgent bliss that almost sends her into the magical beyond. It almost convinced her to give up and give in to the calming sound of angel wings flapping at her side. She remembers Sam's swollen face, lying to her that everything was going to be fine if she could just stay awake a little longer. She remembers Ellen's cry to heaven. She remembers Dean was on his way, but it all went black before he got there. She remembers.

She remembers but she can't say it. One by one, Ellen, Sam and Dean take their turn. Jo touches their faces, speaking wordlessly through fingers and flesh. She's chasing the tears away from Dean's face. Jo is surprised he's showing this much emotion for her, he's surprised as well. She wants to see him smile, but he's pursing his lips, internally accusing himself of her condition.

Behind him, Sam stands guard. She shines her eyes because she feels she owes him something. She remembers his soothing voice wrestling with the pain, his hands pressing on her, keeping her from dying on a dirty floor, somewhere. Alone, anonymous for months, a pitiful Jane Doe torn apart by something the police would never know, could never find. She now associates him with warmth and relief, with life. Sam would love to know she no longer sees him as the quiet brother, possessed by Meg, threatening to do things to her that she would never recover from. She sees him now and Sam means _good_, Sam means _safe_.

Ellen kisses her daughter on the forehead. Ellen can't help the nurses when they clean her up every day with soft towels soaked in hot water and liquid soap. There are too many scars to get used to yet, too many mistakes and bad decisions. Ellen needs time to get used to this Jo who can't speak and can't move on her own.

…

The tube is removed and Jo is breathing without artificial help. Soon she'll be able to talk. Soon she'll start rehab, soon she'll be Jo again, everyone hopes.

…

Jo's in a wheelchair. Ellen feeds her, helps her shower and dresses her like when she was little.

Being back home has sped up her recovery. Dean calls every day. Sam calls every day. She's good, she knows how lucky she got and looking at Ellen makes her want to cry. That she could have done this to her mother, that she could have needlessly died and left her alone.

…

Dean and Sam are visiting again. She's walking now. Slowly and hesitantly, unsure of how deep the floor goes it seems, her feet take forever to land, her knees are heavy and she tumbles for a moment after refusing everyone's help.

"You're taller." Dean notices.

"Thinner too, it's this new diet I'm on," she retorts.

"It's good to see you walking."

She smiles. It's good to see _you_, she thinks.

Sam walks over before she sits down and gives her a gentle, but firm hug. _It's good to see you too, Sam._ Dean doesn't know how to hug her yet. He refrains and lets Sam be the physically comforting one. Jo lets herself fall to him and he helps her sit.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Dean can't stop looking at her. She's grown up and quiet. Dean doesn't know this Jo, but he looks for her, he makes an effort to be sweet. Jo doesn't make anything of it like she would have once upon a time.

"I'm tired. Take me to my room, please."

Dean nods and she closes her arms around his neck. He carries her up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Why didn't you ever call me back?"

Dean's been dreading this.

"I didn't think… I, I'm not sure."

"It's okay." Jo was expecting that answer. "I wanted to thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome."

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Sure, go ahead. I'll be here." Dean looks around, "…in Ellen's chair. Looks nice."

Jo reaches for the covers, but doesn't get far, she's still stitched up. Dean helps her, straightening the clean sheets and warm comforter over her.

"Good?"

"Yes, thank you."

Their eyes meet.

"What's gonna happen to us?" Jo asks.

"I don't know."

Dean slowly gets down, fights back her hair to half embrace her. She softly scratches the back of his head. Dean kisses her close to her broken clavicle.

"I don't know," he repeats. "You should get some rest."

He sits in Ellen's chair to guard her sleep for the night.

The End.


End file.
